


make me feel alright

by dusks



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Drug Use, F/M, Gen, Laurel-centric, Past Relationship(s), Suicidal Ideation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-07
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2018-02-03 17:40:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1753235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dusks/pseuds/dusks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>he comes to her in the dead of the night. ; takes place some time after broken dolls (Laurel-centric)<br/>pairings: past-laurel/tommy, minor-sara/oliver, future-laurel/oliver</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. part one

**Author's Note:**

> transferring this from my other page. i have no beta, mistakes are my own.
> 
> disclaimer: this is the work and play of fan fiction. i don't own anything. everything belongs to their respective owners.

She's lying on her bed wide awake when he comes to her in the dead of the night.

Laurel is surprised at first. She can't place it in her mind why he would bother to visit her. After everything that she's done, why in the world would The Hood, no, Arrow come see her? A part of her thinks that since she sought vengeance against him, maybe he's here to do the same. She wouldn't blame him if he has, honestly.

She sits up and crosses her legs all the while watching him. He's standing in the farthest corner of her room. Enough moonlight filters through the window and her shades that he's not engulfed in complete darkness like he probably hoped he would be. Shadows dance over his form and she's a little enthralled by the vision he currently is. She wonders what he looks like under the hood, what his eyes are like. It would be a lie if she said she's never dreamed of them. And in her dreams, for some reason, they're green flecked with gold.

He's the first one to break the silence.

"How are you doing?"

She sighs deeply and closes her eyes. God, it's only a question but it's loaded, it almost makes her want to fall apart. In reality she doesn't know how she's doing, not really anyway. One moment she's fine, everything is great but then, next thing she knows there's an ache in her chest and it's suffocating. It's maddening and she doesn't really feel like talking about it. Least of all with him.

Her eyes flutter open.

"Why are you here?" she questions, ignoring his. "Why would you even think of coming here of all places? After everything."

There is still a bitter edge to her words and it has nothing to do with him and everything to do with her but, she doubts he has any clue. She won't justify it to him either.

Her question is met with silence. He's not saying anything. He's just standing there.

It is the longest minute she has experienced.

"Look-"

"I just wanted to make sure you were alright after what happened is all," he cuts her off.

She's a little shocked and quite frankly doesn't understand why he even cares. It's not like she's been the most courteous person towards him.

Laurel shakes her head a little.

"I don't understand why you care so much. I haven't exactly held you at highest of regards lately."

"I promised a friend I would look after you."

Her eyes widen and her breath catches. There's a heaviness settling in her chest. _Tommy._  

She shuts her eyes tightly, fighting back tears. _One. Two. Three._ Laurel takes in a deep breath, composing herself; trying to easy the pain his words have caused.

It takes her only a minute to get it under control but it was enough for him to slip out. When she opens her eyes Laurel is alone again.

The curtains rustle slightly from a breeze coming in through her window. _It must've been how he got in_ , she thinks.

Rubbing her eyes she lies back down and stares at the ceiling. 

It doesn't take long for her to fall back asleep.

That night she dreams of green eyes flecked with gold.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title taken from: broken brights by angus stone


	2. part two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer: this is the play and work of fan fiction. i don't own anything. everything belongs to their respectful owners.
> 
> warnings: drug and alcohol abuse.
> 
> i have no beta, mistakes are my own.

The first time she sees him, she laughs. She laughs and laughs and laughs until her laughter turns into sobs. She's sprawled across the couch staring at his form. There's an empty bottle of wine forgotten on the floor, another half empty one standing on her coffee table and she's debating on whether or not to reach for it. She decides against it.

"It's my fault," she whispers turning her head to face the ceiling.

She can still see his silhouette from her peripheral. It's slightly blurry but she can still recognize him. 

"I am _so_ sorry," she weeps bringing her hands up to cover her face.

Wiping her tears away furiously she sits up and shifts her body to face him.

"Tommy, I-" she starts, but he's already gone.

With freshly shed tears rolling down her cheeks she grabs the wine glass and downs it like the answers she desperately needs are stored away at the bottom of it. They never are.

In the morning she'll wake with a killer headache and pretend like it never happened. But, tonight she'll take solace in the fact that he was here. If only for a moment, if it only was a dream. It's the closest and the farthest she has felt to him since he died. 

"I miss you," she mumbles as her eyelids droop closed. She's sliding off the couch and landing on her side with a soft thud on the floor passed out drunk.

**.  .  .**

The second time she sees him she's working on opening her second bottle of wine. Laurel had gone to the kitchen for the corkscrew and when she had returned to the living room she found him standing in the same place she had encountered him or dreamt of the first time.

She takes a few meticulously slow paces into the living room taking a stand next to the couch; proud that she hadn't startled and dropped the corkscrew seeing him there. She can't believe that he's really there.

"Am I dreaming?" She asks and is met with silence.

Pale blue eyes are staring intently at her and Jesus, she's about to have a breakdown. _One. Two. Three._ It's hard to make out his features completely since the lights are dim but his baby blues shine brighter than she remembers them being. She's missed them, _him_. 

With lips turning up into a watery smile she takes a step closer to him only for him to take one back.

"Tommy-" she frowns. 

Laurel takes another step forward and he moves back again. Panic is building up inside her. _No._

"Wait, Tommy. Wa-" She rushes further ahead and by the time she reaches where he was standing, he's gone.

Turning, she runs towards the light switch and flicks it up. Now that the room is fully lit she takes a look around the living room, it's empty aside from her. With a deep sigh she moves to sit on the couch. 

This is too much, she feels like she's going insane. She probably is insane because now she's imagining her dead ex-boyfriend. Or, maybe, he's haunting her. It was her fault he died after all. 

 "I deserve this," she mutters as she uncorks the bottle and pours herself a glass. "I deserve _this_."

**.  .  .**

The third time, it only took three glasses of wine and a few pills for him to show up. This time he's sitting next to her. 

"Is this what I have to do to see you?" 

She doesn't bother turning to look at him. She needs him to stay a while and maybe if she doesn't look at him directly he won't leave; maybe he can stay etched in the corners of her mind, he can linger in her peripheral. She still can't seem to let him go.

All she gets as a response is silence. It's getting damn tiresome.

"What the hell are you doing here then? What do you want?!" she asks furiously.

Nothing. She gets nothing. 

"Christ, even dead you're freaking infuriation," she scolds, working on her fourth glass.

Laurel takes a sip, sits the glass on the table and leans further back into the couch; resting her head and closing her eyes. It's been hell of a day, work has been tougher than usual and she's still not speaking with her father. She hasn't seen or spoken to Oliver either and it seems that she has no friends anymore. She's alone. Well, sort of.

Opening her eyes she shifts her gaze to stare at him, really stare at him. He's all sad eyes, worried brows and downward tilted lips. _Great, he's disappointed._ She rolls her eyes and sits forward.

"You don't understand," she says softly, resting her elbows on her thighs. "How I feel… _What_ it feels like… the things I dream. You're not here." She chokes out. "You're not here and it's my fault."

She buries her face in her hands, "I feel angry, and tired and sad and then…," she trails off leaning once again back into the couch, pulling up her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs.

Staring straight ahead she begins to speak. "I feel empty but I'm suffocating at the same time. I can't explain it. I'm drowning, in my dreams I drown. I swim and swim and just when I can see and almost feel the surface something pulls me down. Other nights I dream of the Dollmaker, I can still smell the chemicals and feel the binds around my wrists and body. The sensation of the tube down my throat lingers. I die in my dreams. All I get out of them is that it should've been me. That night, at the Glades, it should've been me not you."

It doesn't surprise her to see that he's not there anymore.

A bottle and a few sleeping pills later she falls asleep. 

**.  .  .**

 The fourth time, it's bourbon and not enough pills.

She's at a bar and so Tommy doesn't show up. But, she swears as she's stumbling into a cab, she swears on everything she loves, seeing someone identical to Sara watching her from across the street. When she glances back, no one is there.

A bitter chuckle leaves her lips as she watches the street lights blur on by, _their ghosts live inside me. I deserve this._ Their ghosts have carved themselves a space in her mind.

The cab driver stops, she pays and gets out. 

Once inside her apartment she goes on with her nightly routine and passes out.

She's completely oblivious to the two figures watching her from the rooftop of the neighboring building.

They're completely oblivious to the nightmares and ghosts that plague her mind.

  **.  .  .**

The fifth time, Tommy never shows up.

 

 


	3. part three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have no beta, mistakes are my own. 
> 
> disclaimer: this is the work and play of fan fiction. i don't own anything. everything belongs to their respective owners.
> 
> warnings: suicide idealization, drug and alcohol abuse.
> 
> eta: i went back and edited this chapter given that i had changed the tense verb, now it's consecutive to the previous chapters. thanks for reading!

Laurel drops the gun and falls to her knees. _No._ This can’t be happening, she was so fucking sure. Sebastian Blood… _No._ A frustrated yell erupts from her. _NO!_ This isn't real, it can't be. She did her research, made sure there wasn’t any loose ends. Her mind is running a million miles per second trying to figure out what she missed, where she went wrong. Something isn't right. Something’s missing. Laurel stands up frantically. She starts looking around the abandoned warehouse, turning her head side to side trying to find a clue, anything that stands out. 

She takes a step and sways on her feet. Two strong arms wrap around her middle and she looks up at the Vigilante. His face is hidden by the shadows so she can’t see his expression but the tension in his body tells her everything she needs to know, he thinks she’s lost it. Laurel wriggles in his embrace trying to get free. His hold on her doesn’t budge. They are chest to chest, her arms trapped between them. _No._ She needs him to let her go. She needs to find the proof, maybe the cop was working for Sebastian. Maybe… She shakes her head and closes her eyes.

" _No,"_ she manages to choke out. Her throat is tight and her chest feels heavy.

"You don't understand!" She cries out, trying to push him off of her to no avail.

**. . .**

It’s been a chaotic, terrifying and confusing day. Tiredness has crept into her bones and all Laurel wants to do is go home and forget everything that’s happened, to forget the mess her life has become. But, she can’t. Not yet at least. It was agreed, by everyone, that her killing the police officer was done in self-defense considering the events that led to that moment. Her father was currently dealing with the release forms and told her to stay put. 

She’s sitting alone waiting for her father when Adam Donner approaches her. Laurel stands up quickly when he reaches her.

"They're not pressing charges. It's been ruled as self-defense," he pauses, "You're father is with them filling out some paperwork." She nods at his words. Laurel already knows all of this.

"Adam, I-"

"It is true?" He interrupts. It doesn’t take a genius to know what he is asking her about. Of course he knows all about what is going on with her. She is curently an employee at the DA's office and he is her boss. It was naive to think that any word about this wasn’t going to reach him.

"I-." Laurel hesitates. She can’t lie to him but she also doesn’t have it in her to admit it.

He casts his eyes downward and sighs.

She already knows what he’s going to say. He raises his gaze to stare at her.

"Adam, _please_ ,” she pleads.

"I'm sorry Laurel, but, I can't have you working with me. Not with the drug allegations, which aren't really allegations considering they actually found prescription drugs in your home that don't belong to you. You're lucky your father didn't press charges. After my kidnapping and televised drug injection," he sighs, "I can't have you working at the DA’s office. I can't risk it. The office is already under a lot of scrutiny because of that, I will not give them more ammunition. I really am sorry, Laurel."

Panic and desperation begin to build inside of her. _No._

**. . .**

Today is going to be a good day she decides. It’s been close to a week since everything with Adam and the warehouse and she’s going to leave it all in the past because she’s clean and sober. No alcohol, no drugs. She has a job interview with Joanna today and she is feeling really good about it. Nothing is going to ruin her mood she determines. This is going to be a new start for her, this is what she needs she realizes. It’s what she has been waiting for. Laurel’s done with feeling hopeless. Completely done with letting it define her and rule her every motive. Tommy would be proud of her optimism, she muses.

A giddiness settles in her and damn, she hasn't felt this way in such a long time. Laurel misses feeling this way.

She stops and glances at the small mirror by the door. A smile is etched on her face and she almost doesn’t recognize her own reflection. Laurel grabs her keys from the bowl, walks out the door and closes it behind her. Today is definitely going to be a good day.

**. . .**

Her life is a series of fucking shit storms. One after one after another. It seems that as of late, she can’t seem to catch a damn break.

"Fuck!" She slams her hands on the steering wheel. Unshed tears are burning her eyes. She isn’t going to cry. No, she isn’t going to break. She can’t… she won’t… she’s already past broken she realizes. A sob escapes her and tears run down her cheeks. Laurel wipes them away furiously and clamps her mouth shut. To hell with everything. She shifts the gear into drive and peels out of the parking space.

Thea's nightclub is the last place she would’ve picked to have a drink at considering she has been avoiding going anywhere that can be associated with the Queen's. Especially after Moira Queen's trial. She still feels guilty about having to expose Moira’s secret affair with Malcolm Merlyn. If it had been her choice, which she had none in, she would not have been a part of it in the first place. A conflict of interests should’ve been enough to keep her far away from the trial but Donner had pulled some very deep intricate strings to get her on the case. 

None of that matters though. It isn't why she’s here. 

Laurel sits at the bar and orders her first drink. A straight shot of whiskey. She figures she might need something strong if her plan, of forgetting the clusterfuck of a life she currently has, is going to work. Jesus, where the hell did her life take such a messed up turn? 

The bartender places the shot glass in front of her and Laurel hesitates. Something moves in her peripheral and she glances sideways. She frowns when she notices no one is there. The lights must've cast a shadow or something she concludes. Laurel turns back to the shot and stares at it for a few seconds before remembering who lives in the corners of her mind and how she hasn't seen him in a while and of how much she misses him. With new determination she takes the shot and throws it back. It burns her throat as it goes down but she will gladly take it if it means she gets the chance to see him again. 

She needs to see him again. Laurel takes off her coat and sets it on the stool next to hers where her purse already is. Screw everything. There is only one thing she’s currently sure about and that is that she misses Tommy and she knows how to see him. Just for a moment she coaxes herself into believing. A few minutes with him is all she needs. With that in mind she signals the bartender for one more shot.

Four shots later and her body is tingling. A low hum is running just beneath her skin and fuck, it feels so damn good. The shadows are dancing in her peripheral and she can almost make out a familiar figure. Her heart starts beating a little faster at the idea of him.

"Almost there," she mumbles as she gulps down the fifth shot.

She moves to call the bartender over for another shot and the shift causes her to wince. The pressure on her bladder is making it uncomfortable for her to remain in her seat. The bartender sits the shot in front of her and she stands. She tells him she’ll be back in a bit and he nods in understanding. When she takes her first step she sways a little and her hand automatically goes to the back of the stool next to hers. She’s going to use the backs of the stools to guide her way to the ladies' room. Her mind is so fuzzy and her vision slightly blurry so she doesn’t see the guy she bumps into until it’s too late. A giggle escapes her lips, "I'm so sorry." He takes her by her elbow to steady her and once she regains her footing he lets her go.

"No problem," he assures. He doesn’t linger and she watches him go and take a seat at the bar a few stools away from hers.

Laurel shrugs it off and keeps on heading towards the ladies' room. 

Another giggle leaves her when she stumbles through the door. There are a few other women in there and one of them giggles with her. 

"OhmyGod, I did that too!" The blonde in the group slurs as she decides to share that bit of information. The other women roll their eyes at their friend's admission. Laurel sobers up enough to make her way to the nearest unoccupied stall. She closes the door behind her and hears to clatter of heels against the tile, then a loud thump and a set of giggles penetrate the restroom.

She hears one of the women speak. "Jesus, Chloe. We're cutting you off." 

The main door to the restroom clicks shut and she realizes she’s alone. A heaviness settles in her chest. She is all alone, she has no friends. Except, Joanna. She feels guilty for just running out on Joanna earlier but her news had hit Laurel hard. She didn’t have it in her to stay. Panic had started to spread and the last thing she wanted was to have an emotional breakdown in Joanna's office. It’s bad enough she already probably thinks the worst of her. Dinah Laurel Lance disbarred for illegal drug use. Dammit, she isn’t going to cry. She is going to go back to the bar and just drink and not feel.

Laurel's sense are a little less clouded as she makes her way back to bar. The buzz is still running through her system but it’s dull. Luckily, when she sits back down her shot from earlier is still there. That isn’t the only thing she notices. Her bartender seems to have switched while she was at the ladies' room. Little Thea Queen is now standing in front of her, wiping down the bar top. Well fuck so much for not feeling. Guilt hits her like a wave, it washes over her and leaves her drenched. Laurel takes the shot and slides the empty glass towards Thea. She asks for a double this time. The young girl pours it for her before making her way to the end of the bar. 

Her phone buzzes on the bar top and she grabs it. It slips through her fingers though, and she winces. Hopefully it isn’t broken. She leans down to pick it up and inspects it. A minor scratch is all the damage done. Laurel turns it off and drops it inside her purse. She sits back down and glances to her side. The man she bumped into earlier is sitting one stool away from her. A small lift of his lips is all the acknowledgment she gets before he throws his drink back and stands up to leave. She pays him no attention after that.

She reaches for her drink when a shadow on her other side catches her attention. For a split second she thinks it’s Tommy that is walking towards her but it isn’t. Laurel takes her shot and slides the glass towards Thea who has made her way back to her.

"I wanna close my tab out," she slurs slightly when she speaks.

Laurel reaches for her purse and hands Thea her credit card. Her movements are slow, sloppy and hesitant. The alcohol has done it's desired intent. Movement catches her eye from one side and she whips her head in its direction. Her breath gets stuck in her throat and for a second she thinks she is imagining it. What is she saying, of course she is imagining him. He's dead but, there he stands in all of his glory. She closes her eyes. _One. Two. Three._ Laurel opens them and he’s still standing there, loitering near the exit. Anxiety is beginning to rise in her. He never stays long and she needs… she’s not sure what it is that she needs. But, Jesus Christ, him being there is enough for her.

She turns back to Thea who is staring at her intently. Thea's face is full of worry.

"Laurel-."

"Thea, _please."_ She interrupts, holding the card out for the other girl to take. 

Thea shakes her head and sighs.

"It's on the house," pity laces Thea’s response.

It makes Laurel want to yell. She takes back her card and tears start to build up in her eyes.

"Don't feel sorry for me, Thea. You don't know what I've done," she says, voice thick with emotion. She stands up, grabs her coat and turns to walk in the direction Tommy is waiting for her. 

Instead she turns and bumps into another person. Laurel looks up and green eyes are staring down at her. Gentle hands hold her elbows to keep her in place. One glance behind her tells her what she needs to know. Thea told Oliver she was here and now he’s blocking her way. She glances to one side of Oliver and notices Tommy isn't there. _No._ She turns her head to look over his shoulder in the opposite direction and he isn't there either. A blonde is standing a few feet behind Oliver instead. She looks over at the crowd on the dance floor, her eyes skimming over all their faces trying to find the familiar one with those pretty blue eyes and nothing. Her mind begins to race. _Nononononono._  

"Laurel." Oliver's voice cuts through her panic and she snaps her head to face him.

Worry seems to be carved in everyone's face when dealing with her she notices. Oliver's face is the epitome of said observation at the moment and it just fuels her desire to scream even more so. She wants to tell them to stop. To just stop. Asking her every single moment of every single day if she’s ok isn't helping at all. Can't they see? Don't they understand? They can’t help her. Laurel is already past broken. There is no repairing her. She is just ashes. The ashes they leave behind when they leave _her_.

She brings up her hand and presses it to his chest and shoves. There is no way she is strong enough to push him backwards but the intent is enough to shock him into stepping back. Her mind is clouded because of the alcohol and some sort of adrenaline is running through her veins. There’s a hollowness in her chest and fuck! She is not going to cry. Laurel pushes forward and goes around him. Oliver takes a hold of her purse and yanks. She whirls around and protests. Laurel applauds herself mentally, she didn’t sway. She watches as Oliver takes out her car keys and hands her back her purse. 

"If you want to get drunk, fine. But you're not driving,"  his words are cold and harsh.

God, she wants to punch him. How dare he?! How dare he stand there and judge her.

"Whatever," she huffs.

Laurel turns and almost gasps. He’s back. Laurel pushes forward and prays that her feet don’t give out from beneath her and cause her to stumble. She bumps into a few people on her way out but mumbles an apology every single time. 

She reaches the exit but spares a glance back to where Oliver, Thea and the blonde are still standing talking amongst themselves. She watches as Oliver places his hand on the blonde's back and guides her away. To hell with him.

Laurel pushes the door open and stumbles out into an alleyway. Instantly, she knows something is wrong. It isn’t the alcohol, it’s something else. The moment fresh air hits her lungs she feels like her body is being lit on fire. There’s a burning sensation building up inside of her body, it’s spreading and it fucking hurts. Laurel's feet give out and her body hits the floor. She lands with a groan on her side and automatically thinks of yelling out for help but stops the moment a thought crosses her mind. If she dies, she'll finally be with Tommy. Laurel rolls on to her back. She’s going to die in an alleyway. How fucking fitting. A sharp pain constricts her insides and she can’t hold it in any longer. A pained scream rips from her lungs. Her body’s shaking and her vision is blurry. The pain’s too much for her to bear. Her head lolls to the side and she can faintly hear the sound of running feet coming towards her and make out the shadow of said person. She can feel hands push her hair away from her face and echoing voices just barely calling her name. She tries to focus on the person but the darkness already has a strong hold on her. A part of her, her survival instincts, are trying to fight it but a voice cuts through it all. A familiar voice, one she has been waiting to hear for a long time now, the one she thought she would never get to hear ever again. Tommy's.

_"It's ok, Laurel. You can let go."_

..and she does.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from: broken brights by angus stone


End file.
